


& let me be electricity

by inthisdive



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthisdive/pseuds/inthisdive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>post-first season.</p>
    </blockquote>





	& let me be electricity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [B](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=B).



> post-first season.

i.

It was the eyes she remembered first when she woke, and the breeze in the air made her feel like she was trembling. It had happened twice now, and all she remembered was the eyes; the eyes that were not Finn's. Her hand twitched and she remembered tracing a phantom jawline, dusted with the late-evening touch of stubble that was barely a hint of raised texture of smooth skin. She didn't remember the dream, but she remembered the eyes, and they belonged to Puck.

Rachel has had confusing dreams before. She's had inappropriate dreams before. She has had totally life-plan destructive dreams before, but they've never happened more than once and definitely never night after night after night. She sighed and thought she'd rather have that dream about Mrs. Schuester again, because at least that didn't bring any kind of temptation along with it. And temptation, well, she knew she shouldn't get dramatic, but temptation was the enemy to a life of success. She didn't have time for it, and she didn't need it.

But she remembered the eyes, and they were his, and that? That made it hard for her to go back to sleep.

ii.

It happened when she was holding the final note at Glee practice the next afternoon: those eyes met hers, square and deliberate, his mouth flickered, tantalising in its shape, settling into a _very_ appealing kind of smirk. There was always going to be something to be said for that bad boy appeal, and Puck had it in spades. Rachel knew that about as well as anyone could; she'd even fallen for it before. That edge, that condensed and coiled rebellion, that secret heart of gold. It was _so_ CW it was enough to make her ache.

She didn't drop the note, she was born knowing how to not drop the note, but her eyes widened and she stared right back, vibrato in the air and bravado in his eyes, those eyes _again_ , those James Dean eyes. He had her, and she knew, and from that smugness all over him, he knew it too. When she tapered off, when she took in new breath and she was finished, and Mr Schuester was applauding, her hands trembled.

Finn didn't notice.

Finn never noticed.

iii.

They left like they always did, in pairs or groups. Tina at Artie's side, her hand stroking at his hair, Artie talking earnestly about something. Brittany and Santana, arm-in-arm. Quinn and Mercedes and Kurt - and Finn, too, after Rachel shooed him away. All the others. Everyone seemed so _connected_ , like a family, and Rachel was overwhelmed with the briefest longing and wistfulness. She had created that. She had brought them all together. So why did she always feel so far outside from it?

Rachel walked out alone, but Puck was leaning against the side of the building: he was the first thing Rachel saw when she walked outside and felt the crisp Ohio breeze settle like a vent over her face (that breeze again); she shouldn't have flushed, but she did. He smirked, again, and wordlessly extended his hand. She took it, and let him tug her around the corner and out of sight.

"Puck," she gasped, breathy partly from surprise, and partly because it _sounded good_ , and she could play an ingenue better than anyone knew. It worked like it always did; he grinned. He didn't let go of her hand.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he drawled.

"You grabbed _me_ ," Rachel pointed out, prim, and it took all she had not to smile. This was the game. She could play along.

So could Puck. "You could've stopped me," he murmured, and he was close, so close she can taste his breath on her lips, breathe him in. Her eyelashes fluttered shut and then. And then, like every other time but no other time before, it was happening: his mouth on hers, that hand that came up to cradle her face, fingers just below her ear, half-tangled in her hair. The _pressure_ , his legs against hers, a thrilling weight, and warmth of his mouth, the tingling on her lips.

He was right. She could have stopped him.

iv.

It had happened six times. She hadn't stopped him yet.

v.

The seventh time was different because she made it different. Because she was Rachel Berry, and she could make the world believe in her realities. No vanity necklace adorned her neck, no phone calls were unanswered. Picture frames lay face down on her desk. This was the room of the Rachel with no connections; this was the new Rachel.

Rachel, the woman.

"Where's Finn?" The voice came from her doorway, and Rachel whirled around to see him there, insolence in lanky limbs propped against her door frame. Her dads must have let him in. "I thought he finally came up with what he wanted."

"There's no Finn," Rachel said, and she worked to keep her voice steady (and not just because the tired Finn-is-emotional-and-therefore-girly-and-therefore-gay trope Puck always offered up was kind of offensive, especially to a girl with two gay dads).

One of Puck's eyebrows lifted, and he crossed the room to stand in front of Rachel. The collar on his jacket was popped, but his eyes had flickered in interest. _That_ was the reaction Rachel wanted, however subtle; she was under his skin. She'd done it. He didn't hold all the cards. She knew he wouldn't forever; she was Rachel Berry, after all.

"So?"

Rachel smiled. "So come here."

iv.

He was the first thing she saw when the dawn broke through and she woke. His eyes were closed, his face infused with a gentleness she didn't remember seeing before. His arm was slung over her, easy and possessive, and that was okay - that was _okay_. She wasn't Quinn, she was in control. And beneath those closed eyelids were those eyes, the ones from her dreams.

So... maybe she had time for a _little_ temptation.

 _fin_

**Author's Note:**

> bout 1000 words; title from Something For Kate's "Electricity." For B and her birthday, because this is her pairing - happy birthday love! Have some vignettes.


End file.
